White Hallways
by Fernandidilly-yo
Summary: (Set right after season 2 episode 13) Keith's reaction to finding that the black lion is empty and Shiro is gone... (art by karoviesart on tumblr)


**Warning; Spoilers for season two of Voltron**

 **So, I just finished season two of VLD, and I am dying with the ending that DreamWorks left us with. And I kept imagining what poor Keith must have felt in that moment.**

 **So well, this popped out of my brain hole.**

 **Disclaimer- I wish I owned Voltron, but alas I am just a mere peasant.**

 **Art by the lovely _Karovie_ , I am forever crying over this masterpiece- you can find the full version karoviesart 's tumblr** **(I would just link it, but you know how FF is) or find the full version on my AO3 account, it is truly beautiful artwork.**

* * *

 _ **White Hallways-**_

Shiro was gone.

Just like that.

Gone.

It felt like a punch to the gut. _No,_ no it was worse, it was like Keith had been stabbed. The invisible knife jamming itself into Keith's flesh and turning. _Twisting,_ and _twisting_ until it became almost too much to bear.

Keith stared down at the empty seat, his eyes wide as he glanced from the abandoned Bayard to the lifeless control panel. His chest hurt, his breathing beginning to get out of control as the silence dragged on, a ringing in his ears starting to make his skull rattle with an all-encompassing panic he didn't know what to do with.

"Where?" He found himself asking, the word a near whisper as Keith forced the wisps of air out of his too tight throat. "Where is he? Where's Shiro?" He turned then, facing the two shocked Alteans.

Allura turned to him, her blue eyes moist, her lips pinched together in a thin line. "I-I am not sure." She responded, her voice soft in the near silence of the pilot cabin. "Nothing like this has ever happened before."

Keith felt his panic start to rise, the cold fingers of fear beginning to wrap around him, pulling him into that dark abyss he was all too familiar with. "No." He found himself saying, his fingers clenching into fists at his sides. "Shiro was _right_ here, he was sitting _right_ here, and now he's _gone!"_

The fires of dread and anxiety were licking up Keith's insides, mixing with the ice that his panic and fear had already left him with, leaving his body hot and cold all over, the two feelings fighting for dominance inside of the teenager. "He couldn't have just disappeared, he couldn't have just _vanished!"_

But Shiro had.

It shouldn't be a shock that someone could be stolen from them within a blink of an eye, it shouldn't be a surprise that somehow Zarkon could rip a person away without even physically being there.

Because nothing made sense anymore. There were no rules out here, there were no guidelines. Things weren't the same out here in space. Back on Earth Keith had just been some _teenager_ , he had been a _dropout_ , an _orphan_ , a _troubled adolescent_. But out here, he was a _Paladin of Voltron_ , he was fighting a _war_ , a war against _aliens_ , aliens that had _magic_ and _spaceships_ and so many other things that Keith couldn't even begin to explain.

So no, it _shouldn't_ shock Keith, it shouldn't surprise him that someone could disappear without warning.

But that didn't change the fact that he wanted to understand how such a thing could happen. Keith wanted answers, he wanted to know how this could have occurred, and then he wanted to _fix it_. "We need to find him. We need- _we need to go back,_ or scan for him, _or-or_ -"

"We cannot go back. The castle is already severely damaged, and even if it wasn't, we have no idea of where Shiro might be." Allura explained, her eyes downcast, her hands wringing themselves in front of her nervously.

Keith shook his head making his hair shift into his eyes, they couldn't give up, he would never give up on Shiro. "Then Pidge and Hunk can build something, something that can find Shiro-" He began to protest, but was interrupted by a small voice.

Pidge spoke then, her voice monotone and devoid of emotion, her eyes were vacant looking, staring in front of her and not daring to look at anyone else as she spoke, "That isn't going to work." She said, her voice much lower than Keith's. "Shiro is…Shiro…" She trailed off then like she didn't know what else to say.

She was in shock.

That's what Keith's brain was telling him, her stance tight and unmoving her words spoken softly. It was classic shock. He _knew_ it was, he knew that it wasn't Pidge's fault, but he _didn't_ care. "You can't just give up!" Keith found himself yelling, the words felt raw as they burst from his throat. "We can't just leave him with them, we can't just let Shiro go right back to being the Galra's prisoner!"

Or worse. What if they didn't just keep Shiro as a prisoner? What if they tortured him for information? What if they broke him down, shattered what pieces he had managed to pick back up of himself? What if they decided to murdered Shiro? Maybe they would take his life, maybe they would choose to kill him and get it over with, knowing that the Paladins of Voltron would have to find a new Black Paladin, leaving them without Voltron until they found a worthy person.

A hand landed on Keith's shoulders then, the teenager flinched away from the touch, turning his burning eyes onto the person that had put it there. "There is nothing we can do right now," Coran said, the man looked close to tears himself, his frown deep set and his eyes moist. "We must figure out what happened to Shiro before we are able to rescue him."

Keith ripped away from Coran, his legs hitting the pilot seat of the black lion as he did so. He knew that they weren't wrong, he knew that there was no way to find Shiro right now. And that's why it was so hard to come to terms with it. The circumstances made Keith feel _helpless_ , they made him feel _weak_ , they made him feel _powerless_. And Keith did not do well when he had no control over a situation.

Keith's insides felt ripped out like he had been cut open. His whole body burning, his head pounding with his heart, and his chest too tight.

Keith knew this feeling, he had had it many times before. Back when he was six and his father had died, been ripped away from him suddenly; back when he was ten and the Patel family had promised to adopt him, only for his social worker to come pick him up at school a few days later; back only a little over a year ago when he had watched the news report saying that the Kerberos mission had failed and that no one had survived.

Yes, Keith knew this feeling very intimately. It was grief. The claws of anguish were undeniable as they dug into Keith's heart once again, making his stomach roll inside of him and his lungs spasm within his chest.

Keith turned away then, pushing past Coran and Lance so that he could flee the Black Lion. The teen jumped off of the ramp, his landing jarring his ankles, a sharp pain shooting up his legs as he stumbled slightly. But he didn't _care._

Keith ran then. He didn't know why. Because out here. Out in the middle of space, in a flying castle, there was nowhere to hide. There was no shack for him to waste away in, and there was no hover bike for him to storm away on.

But the problem with that was, _running_ was what Keith always had done before. It was his go to, his way of escape, _fleeing, running,_ it's what he did when he couldn't deal anymore. It's what he had done the first time he was placed in a foster home, it was what he had done after he had given Billy Hanson a bloodied nose, it was what he had done after Shiro had _'died'_ and he no longer wanted to be at the Garrison with the constant reminders anymore.

But here, there was nowhere to run. There was nowhere for Keith to hide.

Keith's footsteps echoed off of the castles white walls, the sound bouncing off of them and reverberating in Keith's bones. His breathing ragged and rough as he panted, his armor feeling too heavy as he sprinted down one hallway and into another.

This wasn't _supposed_ to happen.

Shiro wasn't _supposed_ to leave Keith alone again, he wasn't _supposed_ to just vanish.

Keith was _supposed_ to have Shiro's back, he was _supposed_ to protect his friend.

They were _supposed_ to win the war, they were _supposed_ to save the universe.

 _Supposed, supposed, supposed, supposed!_

But it didn't matter what was _supposed_ to happen because out here nothing was set in stone. Keith couldn't gauge what might happen next, he couldn't even place a guess. Because out in the middle of space, everything could change in the blink of an eye. Everything was just pure chance. It was taking one day at a time because you never knew what exactly might happen tomorrow.

The bottoms of Keith's feet were beginning to hurt with the vibration of his steps, his boots slapping against the ground in loud echoing footsteps. Keith's body was starting to shake, his vision blurry, and his chest too tight as his thoughts whirled inside of his head.

Shiro would want Keith to _lead_ Voltron now. He would want Keith to be the _new Black_ _Paladin_. He would want Keith to be a _strong leader_ for the rest of the team. He would want Keith to _move on._

 _"_ _Ahhhg!"_ Keith yelled suddenly, stopping in mid-step and slamming both of his palms to the wall. He couldn't do this, he _couldn't_. He couldn't be the Black Paladin. He couldn't be the leader. He couldn't take Shiro's place.

The teenager kicked the wall then, stumbling backward with the impact and slamming to the floor roughly. His chest heaved, his eyes stinging with the hot tears he had refused to let fall. His armor was too tight, too heavy, too suffocating.

With a strangled noise from the back of his throat, Keith began to rip his armor off, slamming down the chest plate with a clatter; throwing his boots and gloves, his shin guards and elbow protectors, all at the wall across from him, letting out cries and yells of anguish with every object he hurled in his fit of sorrow filled rage.

After a moment, the teenager was stripped down of his armor and he only had one thing left to throw. So, with a loud cry Keith flung his Blade of Marmora at the far wall, watching as the sharp blade buried itself into the once spotless place there with a loud _'shlang'_.

Keith sat on the cold floor heaving for a tick, his chest burning and his ears filled with cotton, the teen watched the knife for a beat, waiting for it to fall to the ground, waiting for it to dissolve the heavy silence. But the blade _didn't_ fall, it _didn't_ move. And so, the only thing that disrupted the quiet of the hallway was Keith's own ragged breathing.

And as the silence broke a moment later, so did Keith.

A sob bursting from his chapped lips as he curled in on himself. Wrapping his trembling hands around his head and crushing his nose against his knees. He didn't know what to do with himself. Because there was nothing he _could_ do. He wasn't smart like _Hunk_ or _Pidge_ , and he didn't understand alien magic like _Coran_ or _Allura_. He had _nothing_ to contribute, and because of this, he had no way of helping Shiro.

So, he cried instead.

He cried for his lost friend, he cried because he was powerless to help Shiro and he didn't know what he might be going through at this very moment.  
He cried because they had come so close to tasting sweet victory today, only for the sour taste of devastation to stain their tongues instead.  
He cried because he didn't know what else to do, he cried because he was sad, angry, and hurt.

Keith's hiccupping sobs were loud in his own ears. It wasn't often that the teenager allowed himself to show this much emotion. He tried to keep a handle on himself, tried to have full control over his feelings at all times. But it seemed that sometimes, _sometimes,_ especially at the worst of times, there was no shoving down one's feelings, no matter how hard you might try.

Keith finally clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to drown out some of his pitiful bawling. His chest hurt, his lungs quivering inside of him as they begged for a full gulp of air. But Keith couldn't give the desired oxygen to his starved lungs. His breath stolen away from him just like Shiro had been.

Keith's whole body throbbed, his heart pulsing with a crippling sorrow, as he let himself fall apart on the cold floor of the castle. His hair stuck to his face with the wetness of his tears, his lips quivering against the palm of his hand as he tried to quiet himself.

And then, suddenly, hands were on Keith again. The teen yelped, not expecting the warm touch. He pulled away his head bumping into the wall behind him as he did so. Keith blinked open his stinging eyes, the action sending more hot tears down his flushed cheeks, only to find that it was _Lance_ kneeling before him.

Lance.

It was Lance.

The other boy was crouched down in front of Keith, tear tracks clearly visible on his tan skin, his eyes bloodshot, and his face looking a mess. But even so, Lance was giving Keith a soft smile, one that looked drowned in sorrow and so much hurt it was almost painful for Keith to look at.

"Hey there, Mullet." Lance's words were said softly, the nickname not holding any of the malice it might have at another time.

Keith didn't reply, didn't think he could with the ever growing lump in his throat. He just sniffed, as he watched Lance plop down onto his butt and sit in front of Keith. Their legs touching as Lance continued to give Keith that miserable smile of his.

"I'm so sorry Keith," Lance whispered into the white hallway, his words barely said over a breath. But they were loud in Keith's ears, making his chest hitch and his eyes burn. "I am _so_ sorry."

Keith couldn't help it, he pitched forward as he gave a choked off sob, letting his head fall onto the taller boy's shoulder as he gripped at Lance's armor. It was uncomfortable having his nose smashed up against Lance's shoulder pad, making it that Keith couldn't feel the other boy's soft warmth, just the cold stiffness of his armor in place of what Keith wanted to feel.

Keith's fingers trembled where they held onto Lance, his body shaking and his mouth slightly open as he pressed himself to the other teenager. This was odd for Keith. He wasn't one to initiate any physical contact with people. And if by the off chance, Keith _did_ , it would have to be with someone he felt absolutely safe with.

Lance's hands only took a tick to come up around Keith. Their warmness pressing to Keith's back and holding onto the shorter boy tightly. It was then that Keith realized, Lance was _shaking_ as well, Lance was _crying_ too, Lance was _hurting_ just like him.

So maybe that made this okay. Maybe just for right now it was okay that Keith hugged Lance and cried with him. Because sure the other boy could be obnoxious at times, or get on Keith's nerves, and maybe Keith didn't always understand Lance. But right now, none of that mattered.

Their rivalry Lance insisted they had, their fights that they picked with one another, their constant back and forth bickering, their lack of knowledge about each other, none of that stupid stuff mattered right now. Because right now, _right this very moment,_ they were both just two boys in mourning.

Keith pressed himself harder to Lance's body, his forehead now shoved against Lance's chest plate. As Lance's chin dug into Keith's back. They were folded over each other, both clinging to one another as they let their grief out, their wet sobs and sniffs of distress floating down the cold hallway only to echo back at them mockingly.

It wasn't comfortable, and it wasn't pretty. It wasn't like what you might see in the movies where the characters broke down together and they would hug to one another and cry a few scripted tears.

No, this was real sorrow. It was ugly and loud, it was wheezing for breath because you couldn't quite get enough air in between your pitiful cries. It was shuddering shoulders, and aching stomachs, and it was raw and gross and sad.

But it's what Keith needed.

Keith didn't know how long they wept together like that. _He didn't care, didn't bother to count._ It was only when both their cries of anguish and defeat had died down into sniffs and hiccupping breaths that Keith pulled away from the taller boy.

But Lance didn't let him get far, the tan skinned boy scooted to Keith's side, wrapping and arm around Keith's shoulder and just kind of leaving it there, not pulling Keith into his side, but letting Keith decide whether he would lean into the inviting touch for himself.

Lance was being respectful of Keith's boundaries, letting Keith choose if they continued to have physical contact or not. Any other time and Keith would have pulled away, he would have gotten up and left to be alone by now. Normally this would have been far too much touching for Keith's taste. It would have already become overwhelming for Keith, leaving his skin itchy and his muscles jittery.

But right now, Keith was drained and exhausted in more ways than one. So, he let himself lean into Lance's side, let his head rest on the other boy's shoulder, let his raw eyes slip closed. Because even though Keith knew he might regret this later, even though he knew he shouldn't be doing this, he just couldn't find it in himself to care.

The silence returned to the hallway then, the white walls too bright for Keith's tired eyes, and his body feeling so worn thin he thought he might just fall asleep right here on the cold floor of the castle next to Lance. Never to move again.

But then a soft voice spoke, "We'll find him." Lance whispered. For a moment, Keith wasn't sure if the reassurance was for him or for Lance himself. "We'll never stop looking."

Keith squeezed his eyes shut, willing them to stop their burning. He had had his breakdown, and now it was time for him to _move on_. It's what Shiro would _want_ of him, would _expect_ of him.

So, Keith pushed down the lump in his throat and blinked the hot tears away, shoving down whatever he might be feeling so that he could pick himself back up again and be the strong person he had molded himself to be because that's who he needed to be right now.

Not just for himself.

Not just for Shiro.

But for his team.

* * *

 **I just have so many feels! Someone help my babies! (ಥ﹏ಥ)**

 **Oh! And please tell me what you think, because this is my first Voltron fic, and I would love some feedback. (づ￣ ³￣)づ**


End file.
